These stories are the artistic expression of the authors who wrote them. The Small Dick Club strongly believes in freedom of speech, and the right of artists to be heard, especially if what they say pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable in society. If you think you won’t like the content of this post, then don’t read it. It’s that simple. The Small Dick Club wishes to advise readers that any similarities in these stories to actual or real people or events is purely coincidental and unintended. That any story marked as a ‘true story’ shouldn’t be taken literally, as we have no way to verify if stories submitted to us are true. The Small Dick Club takes no responsibility for the imaginations and literary creations of authors who post their stories here.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I suppose it was in High School seeing other guys in the shower that I began to suspect I had a rather small penis. But this never really seemed an issue, even when I began dating girls. (None of them ever mentioned that my dick was small. Actually, they never mentioned my dick at all, which probably says something.

Then, in my early twenties, I got into a more serious relationship with a girl called Rachel. Sex was okay, straightforward and nothing special. It was only when we split up, rather acrimoniously, that she fired her parting shot. “…Oh, and you’ve got a small cock and tiny balls!”

Well that set me thinking. What I found was that, after the initial shock and upset, I was actually turned on by the thought that my ex-girlfriend considered my equipment to be inferior and, by implication, would have preferred something bigger.

Some time later, Rachel and I made up. After a suitably decent period, I asked if she’d meant what she said about the diminutive size of my cock and balls. But, to my disappointment, she denied that she did, making out that it was just something she’d said in the heat of the moment and hadn’t really meant. After which she simply refused to discuss the matter. Even when I was fucking her, if I suggested she needed something larger, she’d simply roll her eyes, tell me to shut up, and get on with it!

Well, some time later, we split up again for good. Again, it was not an amicable split. This time, she signed off with, “…And I meant it when I said you’ve got a small cock and tiny balls. Because it’s true. You have!”

What really upset me wasn’t our splitting up, it was the missed opportunity I’d had to indulge in what I now know to be Small Penis Humiliation. That would have to wait for several years when I finally met the woman of my fantasies, the wonderful Sadie.

So there I was, a man with a small cock and balls, a desire for humiliation, but no girlfriend. What was I to do?

It seems to me that there are two broad avenues for humiliation. One is direct. Someone sees your cock, as it were, in the flesh, and judges it to be undersized. The other is indirect. Someone receives the information that you have a small cock.

I began to explore ways of exploiting these two avenues. I had one thing going for me. My job involved me working in various parts of the country on fixed term contracts. I might live in place for a month, six months, a year and then never go back.

This gave me some means of escaping the paradox of wanting to be known for having a small cock by people with whom I had some form of personal relationship, yet not having to live with the long term consequences.

Basically, then, I’d settle into my situation in some new town and get to know various people there (people I worked with, local shopkeepers, neighbours, etc.) Then I’d set about letting them know of my “shortcomings.”

How? Well, by various means which may be of some use to others. The most obvious is to be “accidentally” caught in a state of undress. This was fairly easy when living in digs or guest houses. A bathroom door is left unlocked and you await the arrival of the landlady doing her rounds. The fear and excitement building up to these accidental flashes was amazing.

You stand in the bathroom, naked and pathetic, you hear her footsteps approaching, the door opens, she comes in, she sees you, her eyes flick down on to your cock, she flusters, apologises and leaves. Bliss! Occasionally, this would be added to in the weeks that followed by subsequent whispers and sniggers among the landlady and her female friends. But often the incident would pass as though it had never occurred.

Unfortunately, I began to develop a bit of a moral hang up about this kind of activity. There was a sense in which the woman’s participation was non-consensual. (I suppose the same might be said for other things I shall go on to discuss, but this kind of activity was particularly direct.) It bothered me so much that in the end I ceased doing it.

Almost! I reasoned that in situations where my privacy was in some way invaded by others, displaying myself was okay. So, if a hotel maid should come into my room without knocking and found me naked, that wasn’t my problem. Similarly, if, on a beach, a couple of women are enjoying watching me struggle to put on my swimsuit under a towel, and then that towel slips, that’s okay with me. And it given their amusement, with them too.